Goddess
by DJCaiaphas
Summary: Chloe gains incredible powers at a frightening cost.
1. Chapter 1: Kali

There were definite benefits to Clark splitting his time being the Metropolis Blur, the Daily Planet ace reporter, and the Lois Lane arm candy. He no longer seemed to have time to play big brother to her anymore, even though it was sweet. And, especially since the pain had never healed since Jimmy's death --- a thought that would torture her every night since it was her fault --- any attention was, for the most part, welcome. However, there were times when she didn't care for his judgmental, patronizing stare.

That's why, a year ago, Chloe Sullivan had contacted a Chinese expatriate arms dealer through secure channels she'd established on the Watchtower computers when she'd initially got them online. It turns out he was game for a technology exchange: some minor LutherCorp technology trinkets for a microchip that could, in fact, render her functionally invisible to radar, sonar, and heat detection devices. Namely, Clark Kent. The LutherCorp tech was throwaway --- network security items that would become obsolete in two years' time by upgrades available from Queen Industries. But there's no reason her Chinese contact would need to know that.

The device would let her wander around the seedier parts of the city beyond Clark's prying eyes. Yes, she knew it was wrong to try to change Davis Bloome, and Jimmy had paid the ultimate price for her stupid mistake. But not every troubled metahuman would be a Doomsday. She'd met too many meteor people. She knew a lot of them just needed some guidance. She'd once met a juvenile delinquent whose life had once been a ball of frustration because he would destroy anything he touched that was inorganic. She coordinated with university professors to find a drug that would suppress his powers, and, grateful, he went back to school and had since gone to college to pursue law enforcement.

Clark would never understand that. That's why she had to be invisible.

Chloe had to tweak the microchip a little bit, though, or Clark might get suspicious. Fortunately, it wasn't to difficult to calibrate the chip to the frequencies when Clark used his X-ray vision. So, whenever, Clark looked directly at her, she'd be innocent Chloe Sullivan, grieving widow and guardian of the Watchtower. But if he ever tried looking for her anywhere in the city, she might as well not exist.

The microchip was only the first step. Now liberated, Chloe's underground web of infiltration extended to all corners of the world as she built up the Watchtower. Mindscanning technology from an ex-KGB currently hiding out in Burma. Advanced telemetry systems from a now obsolete firm in South Africa. Pattern recognition code "borrowed" from an EU intelligence agency in Berlin.

What would Clark think of this?

What did she care.

Actually, she knew what Clark would think of this. It would be a serious breach of ethics, and a betrayal of human trust. But what did he know about humanity, anyway? He turned his back on us. It was up to her to protect her own kind, and if saving lives meant breaking the walls of privacy every day --- walls that were crumbling with or without her own meddling --- then so be it. Even with his speed, Clark couldn't be everywhere at once, but one day, when she assembled the right manpower, she would.

"Every day, you're becoming more and more like Tess Mercer," a voice would nag from the deep recesses of her mind.

"Tess and I are nothing alike," she would shoot back. "When it boils down to it, she's doing things for her own self. I'm saving the world." Yet, the more she kept telling herself that, the less convincing she sounded.

She arrived in the Watchtower. Her scanner, built into her watch, showed that the room was empty. Good. The gothic, cavernous room was bathed in a kaleidoscope of colors filtered through the stained glass windows as it did every morning. Sitting at the main terminal, she took a quick scan of where the principal players were. Tess, as always, was at the Luthor Mansion. Lois and Clark were at the Daily Planet. Oliver looked to be having another sparring session with his trainee, Mia. Those two were getting awfully close.

Assured that everyone was on a mission elsewhere, Chloe withdrew a small, silver device from out of her coat pocket. It was an unassuming thing. Untrained eyes would think it was a hard drive: long and rectangular, with a flat cylinder embedded at one end. But she knew it was much more than that. When installed on the Watchtower network, all the information on the systems would be directly beamed into her mind.

She would be omniscient.

No, she thought, that sounds evil, and it wasn't. Power is bad only when those who have it use it for evil. That's not what she was doing. She would where people were, what they were saying, and what they were thinking, but if she had their best interests in mind, then she would be doing them a service, wouldn't she? It would be no different than Clark's basic powers. Sure, he was no mind reader, but he could hear all the voices in the city when they were crying for help. Would he ever consider that evil?

She plugged the device into the Watchtower computer. A small green light blinked on. So far so good. The device whirred to life. Second later, lights from mainframes all across the room began blinking on as well. Information was being routed through the central location.

Suddenly, the large screen blinked on. First, it displayed a stream of numbers, cascading downward like a digital waterfall. And then a pop-up window appeared at the center. In it was a pale woman with cold grey eyes and straight blonde hair.

Herself.

She looked up at the camera. She hadn't expected the device to tap into the visual devices --- and she was a little worried that she'd been duped and the device may now be beaming her identity to less than sympathetic parties --- but there she was. Nothing she could do about that.

"Please," the computer requested on a vaguely robotic and monotone voice, "lock your eyes with that of your reflection to initiate the sync. Lock your eyes with that of your reflection to initiate the sync."

Chloe sighed. "Here it goes," she said. She stared at her own cold grey eyes and waited.

"Syncing," the computer said.

Chloe tapped her fingers on the desk in front of her. Was it OK to blink? Probably not.

"Syncing," the computer said.

Something was wrong. At first, Chloe didn't know what. It was more of a creeping feeling. But as she stared at her reflection, she noticed her pupils were dilating. The were becoming so wide that they were overtaking her cornea. Her eyes were becoming completely engulfed in black. Something was wrong. She tried to blink, or push away, or scream, or anything that would break her trance, but she'd lost all motor functions.

"Error," the computer said. "Error. Error. Errorerrorerrorerrorerror…."

Chloe felt her mouth moving in a completely involuntary motion. Her throat expelled warm air as she felt her vocal chords form a phrase in a voice that was not her voice. "I live."

Oh God, Chloe thought as she felt her consciousness fading away. Clark, what have I done?

Brainiac.


	2. Chapter 2: Freya

"I gotta hand it to you, Smallville," Lois said, pulling a length of shiny garland out of a carefully packed cardboard box, "there's something about the Christmas season that puts you on a whole new level of corny. It's like the holidays turn you into a big blue boy scout. More than usual anyway. This goes…?"

"Usually on the railing," Clark said, pointing to the second floor of the barn, "but … I'll let you channel your inner decorator."

"Uh," Lois said. "Up there? Where everyone can see it? How about if I just … drape it across this table?" she said, tacking it to a rectangular table where she'd draped red linen earlier. "It works better as an accent." She clapped her hands together in appreciation. "I gotta say, Clark, it's really nice of you to ask me to help you out with your Christmas party this year. Makes me feel grown up."

Clark pulled a wreath from out of another box. "It's not an every year thing," he said. "This is actually the first time I'm doing this. But with the crazy year we've all been having…. Ollie hitting the skids…. Chloe losing Jimmy…. I thought it might be nice for all of us to get together and, you know, reconnect."

"Hmmm," Lois said, "that's very sentimental of you. Any, uh, ex-girlfriends dropping by that I should know about."

"Lana's not invited," Clark said adamantly.

"Are you sure?" said Lois, retrieving and carefully unpacking a bundle of candles from another box. "Because, you know, she's had a nasty habit of showing up when she's not invited."

Clark picked up a hammer to fasten the wreath on the barn door. He could do this in fraction of the time by pounding the nail into the wood with his finger. In fact, he could've decorated the entire barn by himself in less than an hour. But there was something very comfortable about taking things slowly, and sharing the moment with someone else. Speedy efficiency had its place in the world, but not here.

"Things are different between us these days," Clark said melancholically. "Let's just say that if we ever found ourselves in the same room, one of us isn't going to survive the moment."

Lois knew when to put on her investigative reporter hat and when to shut up. But still, something bugged her. Ever since that kiss, she and Clark were together now. No, wait… even before that kiss, they'd been very comfortable around each other. Almost as if they were a married couple. But how much of that was because Clark felt he had no other choice? Did she really know that if Lana walked through the barn doors this moment, Clark wouldn't be crawling back? Deep down inside, she knew that that particular relationship had never ended.

And speaking of which … what about Chloe? Clark may have his secrets, but there was one that he was downright awful at hiding: he and her cousin were more than just best friends. Oh, they were never anything official, granted, but what kind of guy spends so much time with a girl from his old hometown? She imagined that Jimmy Olsen may have cooled their relationship off. But now that he was gone…. Lois had no idea of what Chloe was going through, but she imagined that she's feeling especially vulnerable right now. The classic case of a grieving widow. And Clark, he's the sort of guy who just rushes into things emotionally without thinking things through….

No. Get that out of your mind, girl. Clark asked you here. Isn't that enough?

Lois hummed as she unpacked another box. Cow ornaments. She should've known.

"What's that you're humming?" Clark asked.

"Seriously?" Lois asked. "It's 'Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.'"

Clark shrugged. "Never heard of it."

"I would've figured it would be the official anthem of Christmas out here in the sticks," Lois said with a smirk.

."I grew up on old church hymns and the occasional best of the 50's and 60's Christmas tunes," said Clark. "The Beach Boys album was pretty good."

Suddenly, Lois' cellphone rang. She fished it out of her purse. Unknown number.

"Hey," said Clark, "I thought you promised to leave the phone off."

"I figured you weren't being serious," said Lois. "C'mon, Smallville. What if they needed me on site for a big story?"

"You're not the only reporter at the Daily Planet," said Clark, reaching for her phone. Lois drew her arm back before Clark could snatch it. Clark missed, and he found him body pressed against Lois.

"Clark," said Lois suggestively, "I'm beginning to think you instituted this no cellphone policy to get frisky."

Clark pushed away. "What? No…."

"Here," said Lois, slapping her cellphone against Clark's palm. "Put it somewhere safe. I'll be in the house. I think I saw some porcelain figurines on the living room shelf."

Clark shook his head, watching Lois leave. She could be frustrating at times. But in a good way. He opened up a nearby empty toolbox and gently put the cellphone in. That should keep for now.

Neither he nor Lois had noticed the screen of the phone, which was now filled with three green spheres joined together in a triangle by interlocking electrical lines.


	3. Chapter 3: Oya

Chloe found herself standing on the outskirts of a wheat field. On the farside of the field was a familiar looking barn. This, she surmised, must be the Kent family farm. The sun was beating down on her; she guessed it must be the afternoon. She was wearing cut-off jean shorts and a plaid shirt.

In one hand, she was holding a picnic basket. She opened the lid. A few sandwiches, some napkins, a couple bottles of wine. Chloe rolled her eyes. She set the basket down next to the trunk of a nearby tree and pulled out one of the sandwiches.

Clark stepped through the field, wiping his brow. His red flannel shirt, rolled up at the elbows, was soaked with sweat. He smelled of cut grass and diesel. "Good harvest this year," Clark said. "A few more passes and I should be done for the day. Is that lunch?"

Chloe put the sandwich in Clark's hands. "Nice try, Brainiac," she said, "but next time let's not pretend that you haven't already taken over my mind before. And for future reference, Clark was never a big fan of ham sandwiches."

Clark's demeanor changed from pleasant to something cold and unemotional. "How clever of you," he said. His face morphed back into angular, gaunt appearance of Brainiac.

"Which means that all of this," Chloe continued, gesturing at the field, "is some sort of mental construct created from my memories to keep me sedate. I admit, it's pleasantly rustic, but hardly reflective of where I am in my life these days." Chloe shook her head. "I can't believe I let you take over my mind twice. That'll teach me to buy black market equipment without doing a third-level background check."

"It was not the equipment," said Brainiac. "I never left you."

"I thought Clark said that Cosmic Boy eliminated all the nanomites," Chloe said.

"You humans," Brainiac said with a trace of smugness. "You cannot imagine the world beyond the tangible. Everything must be mechanical, metallic. It never occurred to anyone, now or in the future, to observe modifications on the sub-molecular level. I embedded a portion of my very code into the electrical signatures emitted by your nerves. Everything around you in the real world --- The Watchtower, the global computer network --- all subtle suggestions sent to brain for the express purpose of preparing the way for my return."

Chloe took Brainiac's arm and walked him down a nearby dirt path. He was surprisingly compliant. Then again, none of this was real. She was lost in thought. Something wasn't adding up.

"Say what you're telling me is true," Chloe said. "The human brain only contains 100 billions neurons at best. Which, don't get me wrong, is pretty impressive compared to the rest of the food chain. But for you to fully function, you'd need at least ten times that. And even a tenth of that memory capacity would've easily caused me some serious migranes. If I were to hazard a guess … it would be that you're not fully operational."

Brainiac stared at Chloe for a second in a barely hidden mix of admiration and anger, then turned his head away. "That would not be an uneducated guess," he replied.

Another thing bugged Chloe. "Also," she said, "I couldn't help but notice that right before I went under, you were placing quite a few phone calls. I think that's strange. As a computer, you're programmed to take one course of action without any deviation. It's always release a virus, cripple the infrastructure, hypnotize the populace… so on and so forth. My guess is that the programming you embedded in me only contain the most basic protocols. Heck, you couldn't even fully overpower my consciousness like you did last time. Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"The calls," explained Brainiac, "were delivered at random, anonymously, to phone numbers in the Metropolis area code. I was scanning the audio replies for any of Kal El's vocal signatures. I would then find his position by locating the nearest cell phone tower. Thus far, the search has been fruitless."

Hope. It was small, considering she was trapped in the maze of her own mind. But Brainiac had no idea where Clark was.

She knew.

Clark had invited her to a Christmas get together tonight. Which means he was, most likely, back at home in Smallville. For some reason, even though Brainiac had been rattling around in her brain for what was apparently quite some time, he did not access to some of her most guarded information.

"Come to think of it," Chloe said, "this world you created is less about total control and more about inducing me in a dream state. And now that I know that I'm dreaming, I can wake up at any time. Isn't that right?" she said, raising her voice at Brainiac.

Brainiac sneered. "You are clever," he said. "But just because you can awaken doesn't mean you have any control in the real world."

"Well see," responded Chloe, and she willed herself to open her eyes.

The Kent family farm and Brainiac's human form began to disappear, and it slowly was replaced by the cold walls of the Watchtower. But things were different. First of all, she wasn't sure if she'd seen The Watchtower at quite this angle before. Everything seemed higher. Second, she felt warm. Her arms and legs felt like they were burning. She tried to crane her neck to look around, but felt a sharp pain in all directions.

She glimpsed enough to notice that thick, heavy cables were wrapped around her arms and the lower half of her body, like a cocoon. The wires suspended her ten feet above the floor. She tried to scream, but her throat was dry as dust.

"Why?" she said to the spectre in her mind.

"It should be obvious for a clever girl like you," said Brainiac in a voice that sounded as if her were speaking right to her ear. "I can't have you running around should the eventuality occur that you would awaken. Lacking a fully functioning hypnotic subroutine, as you deduced, I needed a direct link into your neural systems, ergo the signal cables. And should I finally contact Kal El, I need you. As bait."

"How did you…."

"…manipulate the cables? Like I said, humans have very limited knowledge when it comes to the usability of subatomic particles. As long as my electronic DNA flows through it, I control it. In fact, thanks to the direct mental link that you so helpfully provided, you can say that as of this moment, I _am_ the Watchtower."

For now, thought Chloe.

She heard the door to the Watchtower entryway turn. Clark, she thought, if it's you, make it quick. You have to stop Brainiac. Kill me.

It was moment of disappointment and relief when fellow hacker and former Tess Mercer associate, Stuart Campbell, walked through the door. He took a step back in shock. Chloe was suspended in the air like a marionette.

"Oh my God," he gasped. "Chloe… what's going on?"

"Run," Chloe tried to say, though only warm air passed her lips.

"Don't worry," he said. He looked around the room and found a crowbar in the corner. "I'll get you out of this."

"A needlessly heroic gesture," Brainiac said, his voice booming from The Watchtower speakers. As set of wires snaked across the floor of The Watchtower, wriggling toward the corner where Stuart was standing. "But make no mistake, little man… I am the master here."


End file.
